


3 A.M.

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: For the First Time in Forever, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, first time in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s three in the morning, what could you possibly want?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoisdeanwinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=whoisdeanwinchester).



> Not my characters, only my words.  
> Written as a gift for my 666th follower [whoisdeanwinchester](http://whoisdeanwinchester.tumblr.com). over on my [dean's mixtape](https://deansmixtape.tumblr.com)tumblr. Thanks for the great prompt!

It’s been more than a month, maybe two. It’s been hard (hah!) waiting for a sign. After he released the Darkness he got sidetracked and kept the details from Sam. Maybe that’s what this is about? It’s more likely though that it’s because he almost killed Sam (again!) 

 

His stomach sinks when he thinks of it, the weight of that ultimate instrument of Death (literally!), the want of holding the First Blade instead thrumming through his whole body, all of it going to an insignificant blur when Sam looked up at him with those eyes, those words, those fucking pictures. The decision to say Fuck It and take out Death instead of carrying out the plan he’d just agreed to. There wasn’t another choice for him. Not with Sam kneeling there, beaten, broken, offering himself up for the world once more.

 

That’s what runs through his mind when Sam asks, “It’s three in the morning, what could you possibly want?” blinking blearily into the hallway light spilling from the open door. Dean can’t put it into words, it’s not possible to put all of that into something concise and coherent. He just wants. No, he _needs_ to be here, even if it’s just holding him, or being held by him. But the words won’t come. He starts to back out of the doorway, when he hears the quiet, “Dean?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Since you woke me up, would you stay with me? Just for the rest of the night?”

 

He nods, shuts the door behind him and climbs into Sam’s bed. Sam turns away from him onto his side, and Dean’s not sure what Sam wants. What are the boundaries between them now? It’s all different and all the same and he’s so damn confused it’s not even funny.

 

“Dean, don’t lay there like a lump, c’mon, hold me,” Sam says, sounding exasperated that he has to ask.

 

Dean’s heart leaps at Sam’s words, Sam was expecting to be held. He vows to himself that if it’s just these few hours then he’s going to stay awake and enjoy them. He wraps Sam up the way he likes to be after a nightmare or a restless night. Dean’s arm under the pillow that Sam’s head rests on, his other arm tight around Sam’s chest, legs entwined just so the soles of their feet brush together. 

 

He feels Sam’s heart rate slowing, hears his breathing even out into that pre-sleep pattern, he noses into the nape of Sam’s neck and smells deeply, that smell of home. He feels a sudden wave of happiness flowing through him then and squeezes Sam a little tighter in response to it.

 

“What?” Sam mumbles.

 

“Nothin’, Sammy, go to sleep,” Dean whispers into his brother’s delectable neck, taking a chance on a small tasting lick he disguises in a kiss.  

 

Sam chuckles a little though, which means he noticed. “I still taste good?”

 

“Yeah, you do, just missed it is all,” Dean mumbles, lips still not leaving Sam’s neck. He’s not budging unless Sam insists, but judging by how Sam is squirming his hips around it’s not a problem.

 

“Me too,” Sam finally admits. He turns around in Dean’s arms so that they’re face to face.  His lips find Dean’s like a magnet finding true North, his tongue avidly licks the taste of Dean out of his mouth. 

 

Dean can feel that Sam is as hard as he is, so he takes a chance and gets both of them out of their sleep pants and into his hand, slick and smooth and hard moving and sliding together. Sam’s breathing almost as fast as his hips move, his hands gripping and kneading at Dean’s ass to hold him close.

 

He loses track then about who comes first, but all he knows is that the familiar bliss and comfort are enough to put him right to sleep despite his earlier resolve to stay awake.

 

In the morning, Sam’s kisses tell him that staying awake wasn’t necessary.


End file.
